


What Could've Been

by 60atin3le88, ArwenLalaith



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Grandfathered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60atin3le88/pseuds/60atin3le88, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLalaith/pseuds/ArwenLalaith
Summary: Twenty-five years ago, Emily Prentiss broke up with Derek Morgan.  As far as Derek knows, that's the end of the story.Apparently, he was mistaken...given the fact that the son he never knew he had has just walked into his bar with a stroller.Life as he knows it is about to get a hell of a lot more complicated...
Relationships: Clyde Easter/Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan/Emily Prentiss, Kristy Simmons/Matt Simmons, Savannah Hayes/Derek Morgan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We've created a playlist to go along with the fic - check it out on Youtube: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJ7s6q0R67w3w1uaiQnaNCTphdHS3jl8r

The bar was empty, but for a few staff milling about in preparation for the evening crowd when Matthew steered the stroller in the front doors. (It was two in the afternoon, afterall, so it wasn’t all that surprising that it was quiet, he supposed.) A few of the staff gave him strange looks, which again, wasn’t very surprising, considering the stroller...

He found the person he sought sitting in one of the booths, flipping through a ledger and muttering to himself. He didn’t even look up as he approached and Matthew wasn’t sure if he was ignoring him or literally not even aware of him.

“Are... Are you Derek Morgan?” he stammered after a few moments of gape-mouthed scrambling for words.

“Hey, kid, we’re closed,” came the snappy interruption. He still didn’t bother to look at him.

Matthew winced at the quick shut down; he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t _this_. “I, umm... Actually... I...”

The man snapped his fingers a few times to get Matthew’s attention. “Spit it out, kid.”

With a heavy exhale, he steeled himself and launched into the speech he’d practised about a thousand times in front of the mirror that morning. “My name’s Matthew Prentiss. My mom is Emily Prentiss? You dated for awhile...” He paused, hoping the name sparked some kind of recognition. When none seemed forthcoming, he continued, “She used to come into the bar you worked at?”

He frowned, face screwed up in some form of concentration.

“You two didn’t have _much_ in common, but what you did have was a whole bunch of unprotected sex,” Matthew continued.

Clearly seeing where this conversation was heading, Derek blanched, already scrambling for excuses that wouldn’t make him sound like a total asshole.

Matthew continued on anyway, “After you guys broke up, my mom discovered she was pregnant with me...” He paused, swallowed thickly as he prepared himself to say the words he’d been waiting twenty-five years to say. “I’m...your son.”

Derek’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open dumbly, words refusing to form in his mind.

“Oh, one more thing,” Matthew added, “This is Celeste – your granddaughter.” He pulled the stroller from around the corner, revealing the baby sitting inside, amiably chewing on her fist, drool spilling down her arm.

* * *

Derek Morgan wasn’t exactly known for being the strong silent type. He always _always_ said what he was thinking. The problem was, right now he _wasn’t_ thinking – his brain steadfastly refused to start like a stalled car engine refusing to turn over.

He pulled his car haphazardly off the road, more on the lawn than in the driveway – dangerously close to the well-cared-for freesia that filled the garden with brilliant pops of purple – and marched up to the front door, preparing himself to unleash the full fury of his anger upon the inhabitant.

Instead, he was startled into a dumbfounded silence as the door swung open before he could pound on it. He stumbled back a step or two as he came face-to-face with a woman he hadn’t seen in over two decades. A woman who, somehow, looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

“Derek!” the woman on the other side of the door exclaimed in surprise.

They both stood there in stunned silence for what could have been eons, staring at each other as if not quite able to believe this moment had really come...

After struggling for words a few moments longer, he managed to blurt out, “We have a _son_!?”

She winced in the face of his anger, but opened her mouth to say some, no doubt well-rehearsed, spiel.

She didn’t get that far, though, before he went off on a tangent, “No. No way. Nope. It’s my turn to talk. My turn. You had twenty-five years to talk, now I get to...”

She held up her hands in surrender. “That’s fair. Please, go ahead.”

He narrowed his eyes, fixing her with accusatory stare. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he demanded.

“First of all,” she started off with a rather dramatic sigh. “I never stopped him from meeting you – all he had to do was ask.”

“You didn’t think I deserved to know I have a son walking around?” he asked, talking over the end of her sentence.

She scoffed. “You didn’t seem like the parenting type when I told you the condom had failed...”

“Look, I’m standing in front of a woman I haven’t seen in decades talking about a son I didn’t even know I had,” he ranted, “How could you do this to me?”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” she asked in disbelief. “The entire time we were dating, you refused to call me your girlfriend. I wasn’t even allowed to keep a toothbrush at your place. Do you even know how many breath mints I had to eat to keep myself from smelling like alcohol when I went to class?”

Rolling his eyes, he said, “You’re such a drama queen...”

She shook her head. “You were _so_ proud that all your so-called ‘relationships’ didn’t last more than a week. All you cared about was your sex life and your work. In that order.” She let out a slow exhale to calm her temper. “Derek, if you want to be a part of my son’s life, I’m fine with that. Really. I don’t want to sound like an overprotective mother, so I hope this is the first and only time I have to tell you: if you hurt Matthew or his daughter, I will kill you myself. Is that clear?”

Derek opened and closed his mouth a few times, scrambling for words – any words – but not finding any.

“Alright, I’ve got to run,” she said with a false smile. “If you want to see Matthew, he’s in the guesthouse. You look good, by the way. The Devil seems to have upheld his end of the bargain...”

And with that, she shut the door in his face and marched off, leaving him standing there, just as stunned as when he’d arrived, but this time with a confused and choking feeling taking up residence in his chest as he watched her drive away.


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew practically waltzed into Derek’s bar, grinning to himself like the cat that got the cream, clearly very proud of himself.

He found Derek sitting at the bar, attention glued to the TV screen replaying highlights of the previous day’s football game. Occasionally, he’d shake his head in apparent disapproval of what he was seeing.

“Hey, Dad!” Matthew called out by way of greeting when it became apparent that he wasn’t about to notice his presence on his own.

Derek winced as if physically struck. “Kid, kid,” he scolded, turning on the barstool to face him. “How about we wait on that one...” He patted him in the shoulder as if in consolation.

Matthew raised a brow in question, not understanding.

“Not ready for _Dad_ ,” he clarified, shuddered. And, before Matthew could protest that, ready or not, he _was_ a dad, Derek changed the subject. “What are you doing here?”

Still grinning, he explained, “Well, I was thinking about what you said the other day – about finding something we have in common – and I had an idea...”

Derek looked skeptical and perhaps a bit hesitant. “What kind of idea?”

“I got us tickets to a sporting event!” he declared proudly, pulling the two tickets from his back pocket and brandishing them as if he’d found the Holy Grail.

“Hey, that’s great!” Derek praised. He took the proffered tickets, then frowned. “Cheerleading? I thought you said we were going to see sports...”

“We are...”

Derek’s brows leapt up his forehead. “Cheerleading isn’t a _sport_ ,” he scoffed, obviously struggling to hold back laughter.

“Of course it is,” Matthew insisted. “It’s extremely physical, difficult work – you couldn’t do it...”

“I wouldn’t _want_ to do it,” he retorted. “’Cause it’s for girls.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “Your thinking is _so_ backwards, I don’t even know where to start...” She scoffed, shook his head. “You know what, nevermind. I’ll go with a friend. Someone who isn’t stuck in the fifties. Besides, I don’t need you filling Celeste’s head with your small-mindedness, limiting what she thinks she’s capable of.”

Emily’s words about hurting Matthew’s feelings rang out in his mind and a surge of guilt swelled in his chest. “Wait, wait, kid...” he called out after him, sliding off the barstool. “I want to come.”

Matthew’s face lit up with a grin.

“Besides,” Derek added, “I could use the excuse to ogle pretty girls...”

...

Emily dropped her keys on the counter and flicked on the light, then startled as she found Derek sitting in the living room, flipping through her photo albums. “ _Jesus_ , Derek!” she hissed, “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

He nodded to where Matthew was fast asleep on the couch as if that explained anything.

She heaved an irritated sigh and nodded towards the kitchen where they could talk without waking Matthew. “What are you doing here, Derek?” she asked again once they were out of earshot. She turned her back to him, pouring herself a glass of wine while she waited for him to speak.

“I spent a wonderful afternoon with our _daughter_...” he said pointedly.

“Excuse me?” she said, unamused.

“He considers _cheerleading_ a sport! That’s not normal...”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m such a terrible mother,” she said sarcastically. “He considers cheerleaders to be athletes, rather than sex objects. What a tragedy!” She cocked her head, daring him to contradict her. “And for your information, he thought he was doing something nice for you by buying those tickets.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Believe me, it was lovely... We had a great view of those tight little...” He trailed off, realizing he wasn’t winning her over by objectifying women. “Anyway... What I meant was, he obviously needs a more masculine role model in his life. Don’t get me wrong, but you raised him like...well, a girl.”

“I worked my _ass_ off raising _our_ son on my own!” she snapped. “I did the best I could, trying to be his mother, his father, his whole fucking family...but no matter how hard I tried, I could never replace a father. And if you have a problem with that, well, maybe you should have been there.”

“Maybe I could have been if you’d told me you were pregnant,” he retorted, sounding more triumphant about having won the argument than actually angry.

She scoffed. “When was I supposed to tell you?” she countered. “The week I found out, you disappeared on some booze cruise and when you came back, you broke up with me over the phone. Obviously our _relationship_ meant nothing to you, so I gave you what you wanted. _Nothing_.” She stared daggers at him. “So, you do not get to blame me for our son not having a father figure when you showed me exactly what I meant to you and refused to have my son spend his life wondering why you were never there for him.”

“I didn’t break up with you over the phone,” he said as if offended, apparently having missed the rest of her the conversation. “ _You_ ghosted me.”

She raised a brow. “Oh, really? Is that how you remember it? Well, allow me to refresh your memory... You called me at two in the morning, said you’d met some random girl and suggested we have a threesome. When I said no, you said what essentially amounted to needing to sow your wild oats. Then you hung up on me.”

“I did not!” He paused, thought back for a moment. “Did I really?”

She nodded, but said nothing.

“Oh. Well.” He stared down at his feet. “I’m sorry. You deserved better than that...”

That seemed to surprised her. “Thank you, Derek. That’s really mature of you.”

He’d already moved on, though. “That doesn’t change the fact that he thinks cheerleading is a sport. What’s next, ballet?” He laughed at his own joke.

“You have less culture than a yogurt,” she informed him. “And I don’t know how to say this nicely, but get out of my house...”


	3. Chapter 3

“Remind me again: why are we here?” Derek asked with a dramatic sigh like a child who was dragged along by his parents somewhere boring. He’d draped himself over the nearest bench like a ragdoll the moment they’d arrived at the park – partly because he wanted to be in the shade and partly because it was the one spot where the WIFI worked.

“So Celeste can play,” Matthew reminded him for about the seventeenth time since they’d arrived. “That’s kind of the point of a _play_ ground.” He knelt down in the sand beside the baby and was helping her make a sand castle.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Okay, but why am _I_ here?” he retorted, all smart ass and cocked brows. He looked back to his phone screen, returning to swiping right on Tinder. “ _Nice_...” he said to himself at the next girl to cross his app.

“Da- Derek,” Matthew said pointedly, quickly correcting himself, “This is so you can bond with me and your grand...”

He held up his hand to halt him in his verbal tracks without looking up. “Kid, finish that sentence and you’re done with free drinks in my bar.”

As much as he would rather die than be labelled a grandfather – or even just a _father_ – he was starting to develop a weakness for that little girl...it was hard to resist her sweet smile and those big brown eyes with their long lashes and enigmatic sparkle (far too similar to her grandmother’s for his liking).

“But I don’t really...” Matthew started to argue.

“Nope.”

“But you _are_ my...”

“Nope.”

Matthew sighed in aggravation, his efforts to start a conversation constantly cut short by Derek’s monosyllabic responses. Before he could come up with anything further to say to try and defrost the icy relationship, his phone chimed in his pocket. Looking at the screen, he offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it’s Chloe. She probably wants to discuss next week’s custody schedule. Do you mind keeping an eye on Celeste?”

Derek looked up from his phone, eyes wide. “Oh, I, umm...” he stammered. “You want _me_ to...be responsible for your kid’s life?”

“She’s just playing in the sandbox,” Matthew pointed out. “I hardly think she’s at imminent risk of dying.”

He held up his hands in self-defence. “Okay, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As Matthew wandered off, phone to his ear, Derek settled back on the park bench, one eye on the baby, one on his phone...until a particularly attractive girl came across his Tinder screen. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, fully distracted.

Then, Celeste started wailing.

Looking up sharply, Derek pocketed his phone and ran over to the baby. “No, no, no, Baby Girl, don’t cry...” he soothed, practically begging. “Please be quiet, your daddy is going to kill me if you’re crying on my watch!”

Beside them, a young woman apologized, “I’m _so_ sorry! My son shouldn’t have pushed your daughter.” She turned to her son, demanding, “Andrew, apologize to the girl...”

“Oh, she’s not...” Derek started to refute. But, when he turned to the woman, the words stalled in his throat as he looked her up and down. “I mean... I’m sure she’s okay, right Baby Girl? Why don’t you kids keep playing while the grown ups have a little chat...”

He stood up to his full height, doing his best to subtly flex his muscles under his dress shirt as he flashed the woman his million watt smile.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t wear a wedding ring,” the woman said, nodding to his left hand.

Turning on his most grief-stricken expression, Derek said, “Yes, that’s... That’s a long story. A _sad_ story.” He stared at the ground for a moment, then met her gaze and smiled. “I’m Derek, by the way.”

“Jordan,” she replied. “It’s _very_ nice to meet you. And if you ever want to talk, I’m a very good listener. I’m going through a nasty divorce myself...”

“Really? Well, my daughter’s mother isn’t in our life anymore...”

Jordan clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. What happened? How did she die?”

For a few moments, Derek considered telling the truth – his twisted version, anyway – but then decided to just run with it. “It was an accident. A bad one,” he recounted, “And I’ve taken care of our daughter on my own ever since.”

Jordan smiled tenderly, rested a hand on his shoulder. She glanced over at Celeste, then, noticing Matthew’s approach. “Hey!” she shouted. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Calm down,” Matthew assured, “She’s my daughter.”

Jordan glanced from Matthew to Derek, brows furrowed in confusion.

Matthew, guessing that Derek had been lying his ass off, narrowed his eyes. “What’s she talking about?”

“I... Umm... Well, see, she...” he fumbled for an excuse.

“Wait, do you know each other?” Jordan asked.

Matthew sighed heavily. He bent down to pick up Celeste. “He’s the one who abandoned my mother to raise me on her own and only just found out that he has a grandchild,” he informed her.

Derek groaned. “Kid, couldn’t you have picked an explanation that _didn’t_ make me sound like a complete asshole?”

Jordan was already picking up her son, shooting Derek a frosty glare.

“Jordan, please, I can explain...” Derek pleaded.

“No need,” she replied resolutely, “You’re a pig.”

Waiting until she was out of earshot, Matthew turned to his father,” Did you really just use my daughter to pick up some woman?” His tone and his expression were full of scorn and disgust.

“She’s a babe magnet,” Derek replied, “You should try it some time...”

Matthew narrowed her eyes at him, but decided not to say anything. He soothed a hand over Celeste’s soft curls. “Let’s go, princess. It seems like your grandpa doesn’t understand that you’re not an object.”

“Hey!” Derek shouted, “Where are you going? You’re my ride!”

But it was too late, Matthew was already driving away.

Sighing dejectedly, Derek glanced around helplessly. Deciding he had only one choice, he took his phone out of his pocket. “Emily? Hey, it’s me. Can you pick me up? There’s been a little misunderstanding...”


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew entered Derek’s bar with a plastered-on smile (that was just slightly too big to be authentic) and a peach cobbler in his hands (that was entirely too not burnt to be homemade).

Ordinarily, Derek would have seen that fake smile from a mile away, but as it was, he was too busy salivating over the cobbler. He was about three bites in when it occurred to him to be suspicious. He looked up at Matthew, raised a brow as he studied him, then asked (while spewing crumbs everywhere), “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something?” Matthew asked with a high-pitched little laugh. “Can’t I just bring my fath... _you_ some dessert from the goodness of my heart?”

“You _could_ , in theory, and yet here we are: you’re about to ask me some enormous and majorly inconvenient favour that will probably ruin my entire night and...” he rambled.

Matthew heaved a sigh, relented, “ _Fine_. I need you to watch Celeste for me.”

A beat passed in which Derek was apparently waiting for a punchline. When none came, he laughed. “Good one, kid. You even said it with a straight face.” He shook his head, grinning. “Me watch a baby. With no supervision. Hilarious.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted, not finding it nearly as amusing as Derek apparently did. “I really _really_ have no other options here.”

“What could possibly be so important that you want _me_ to take care of your baby?” Derek asked. “I’ve never even changed a diaper before...”

Matthew couldn’t help his smug little grin. “I’ve got a date with Chloe,” he announced proudly. “It’s our first _real_ date – which, I know, is kind of backwards considering we have a kid together. But I think she’s finally starting to see me as boyfriend material which, to be honest, is all I’ve ever wanted since we were fifteen and we were both candy stripers at the hospital.”

While he waxed poetic, Derek mimed puking behind his back. “ _God_ ,” he muttered when he finished talking, “How did you turn out to be such a girl when you’ve got half my DNA?”

Choosing to ignore that jibe, Matthew continued, “Anyway, I’ve literally asked everyone I know and no one can watch Celeste tonight. Please _please_ will you watch her?”

“What’s in it for me?” Derek demanded.

Rolling his eyes, Matthew answered, deadpan, “The respect of your only son.”

Derek didn’t seem convinced. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to sweeten the pot.”

Obviously not impressed, Matthew said, “Mom might reconsider her stance that you’re a useless waste of skin...”

For a few moments, Derek seemed taken aback by the arbitrarily aggressive insult and he had to wonder if those exact words had actually come out of Emily’s mouth... But he couldn’t come right out and _ask_ if she’d said that because then Matthew would ask questions and he really had no desire to answer them and it would be a whole big thing... Arching a brow, Derek asked, “Why can’t _she_ watch the baby anyway?”

“She’s busy,” he said. “She has... Well, I mean, she’s going out... She’s got a date.”

For a few moments, Derek’s mouth hung open uselessly as he sputtered and stammered, trying to find an appropriate response. “So, everyone has a date but me?” he eventually complained. “What happened to me?” Pouting childishly, he relented, “Fine! I’ll be there.” A beat. A thought seemed to occur to him then. “Does she come with an instruction manual?”

“Instructions?” he scoffed. “She’s a human being, not an espresso machine...”

...

“And these are the emergency contacts,” Matthew instructed, indicating a list hanging on the fridge. “My number, Chloe’s number, and the number of the restaurant we’ll be...” He trailed off, frowning. “You’re not even listening to me!”

“Am too,” Derek lied, tearing his eyes away from the TV screen.

Matthew frowned. “Would you _please_ , for once in your life, take this seriously?” he demanded. “This is my kid’s _life_ you’re responsible for and I’d really appreciate it if you could at least pretend to care.”

“Hey! I _care_ ,” he retorted. “I just don’t need you to mother hen me – I’m a competent adult, I think I’m capable of putting your kid to bed for one night.”

Matthew seemed to internally debate whether he believed that was true (and if he could, in good conscience, leave his baby alone with him). With a glance down at his watch, he sighed, apparently realizing he had little choice in the matter if he still wanted to make the date on time.

...

“You’re really unbelievable, you know?” Emily griped as she entered the guesthouse. “The first date I’ve been on in ages and you _ruin_ it! This is just so _typical_...” She stopped mid-rant, seeing the guilty expression on Derek’s face. “What did you do?” she demanded, deadpan. “Where’s Celeste?”

He was saved having to answer the question as the baby waddled out of the bedroom, naked but for her diaper, entire body smeared with chocolate ice cream.

Emily’s expression became one that threatened bodily harm as she rounded on Derek. “ _What_ did you do?” she hissed.

“Nothing!” he said adamantly, holding up his hands in self-defence. “I gave her a little ice cream after dinner, I didn’t realize that was a crime!”

Emily was decidedly not amused. “ _This_ ice cream?” she demanded, holding up the empty container, παγωτό καφέ emblazoned on the side.

Sensing he’d done something seriously wrong, Derek deflected, “Why can’t you people eat  _normal_ ice cream?”

Ignoring him, Emily translated, “Pagotó kafé means _coffee_ ice cream. You gave a one and a half year old _coffee_!”

“It’s not my fault! How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe don’t give a _baby_ ice cream in the first place,” she retorted. “Matthew is going to kill you, you know? He trusted you to put Celeste to bed for one night – against my better judgment, but whatever – and you couldn’t even do that right.”

“That’s why you have to help me,” he whined. “I don’t want him to think I’m totally incompetent and untrustworthy... Kid’s actually starting to grow on me.”

She huffed, glowering at him, but at length, she sighed, shook her head. “Fine,” she relented. “I’ll help you put her to bed, but you  _owe_ me.”


	5. Chapter 5

Emily was just sitting down to a very sad lunch of burnt coffee and a wilted salad from the hospital cafeteria after a long morning of patient consults and lamenting her less than successful date when she was paged over the hospital’s intercom system.

She sighed wearily, looked down lamentingly at her meal, then stood and tossed the untouched salad in the trash. She downed a generous swallow of the bitter coffee, then threw that too in the trash. She wasn’t really that hungry anyway.

She took the elevator back to her office where she was surprised to find, not the emergency she was expecting, but Clyde standing there with his signature charming grin and a take-out bag from her favourite little bistro.

“Clyde...” she stammered, surprised by his presence and more than a little confused. “What... What are you doing here?”

“You forgot something last night...” he said. When she raised a brow, curious as to what it was that she’d forgotten, he crossed the room and kissed her deeply. “That,” he answered when he’d pulled away.

She couldn’t help the blush that crept across her cheeks at that. She cleared her throat once, twice, struggling to form words.

At her continued silence, he added, “And, considering how our date last night was so _rudely_ interrupted, I thought I’d make it up to you by bringing you lunch. I know for a fact that you don’t eat properly while you’re working.”

For a few moments, she seemed to be about to protest that he didn’t have to do that, but apparently decided against it. Instead, she said, “Sometimes I forget just how sweet you can be...”

He chuckled. “I hide it well behind my asshole tendencies.”

She just smiled and shook her head. She reached over to take the bag from his hand, setting it on the nearby desk, before turning back and capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

...

Matthew tossed back a shot, then slammed the glass down on the bar. “Another!” he demanded. Then, seeing Derek’s raised brow, he added, “Please?”

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Derek said, “And please don’t mistake my asking for any kind of interest in your life... But is there a _reason_ you’re doing shots at ten in the morning?”

For a moment, Matthew glared at him as if he had somehow wronged him, but only briefly before sighing dramatically and resting his head in his hands. “Remember the date I had with Chloe?”

At the very least, he remembered Emily yelling at him...not that he was about to say that out loud.

The question, apparently, was rhetorical, because Matthew continued on regardless of his lack of response. “Well, turns out it wasn’t a date afterall...” He tossed back the shot Derek had just poured for him.

Brow furrowing with confusion and perhaps concern, Derek said, “But you said...”

“I thought it was!” he defended himself. “Turns out, though, that she just wanted to talk about our parenting schedule. Nothing romantic about it.”

Derek sighed. “Don’t get me wrong...but why are you so obsessed with Chloe? In case you haven’t noticed, there are lots of beautiful women out there... Let me tell you...”

He held up a hand to stop what would no doubt be a mildly offensive discussion of women. “As much as I want to hear my _father_ discuss his sex life...” He shook his head. “I don’t want any other woman. I want Chloe. She’s Celeste’s mom and I’ve been in love with her since we were kids.”

“You don’t have to _love_ them,” Derek insisted. “Haven’t you ever heard of Tinder?”

“I don’t want to hook up, I don’t want meaningless sex,” Matthew insisted. “I want a relationship – a _family_. Me, Celeste, and Chloe.”

Derek just shook his head, rolling his eyes.

Matthew persisted, though. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you really must...”

“Have you ever had feelings – _real_ feelings – for anyone? That gut feeling that tells you she’s the _one_?” he asked.

Derek’s gaze got far-off, almost lamenting. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Once. A long time ago. I called her Princess...”

...

There was a knock on Emily’s office door, interrupting the kiss, and before she had a chance to yell at the person on the other side to go away, they came bursting into her office anyway. “Hey, Granny,” Matt Simmons greeted merrily, knowing how much she hated the moniker.

She glared at him. “Call me that again and you’re fired.”

Matt just laughed, ignoring her obvious ire. “Someone’s here to see you,” he informed her.

“I’m kind of already...” she started to protest, glancing at Clyde over her shoulder in apology for the interruption.

But before she could finish the sentence, Celeste waddled into the office. “Gigi!” she squealed.

“Etoile!” Emily greeted her granddaughter, irritation suddenly forgotten. She dropped to her knees and let the girl fall into her arms for a hug. “Are you visiting Bompa at work?”

Celeste waved the lollipop she’d no doubt gotten from the jar where they kept the treats for kids getting immunizations.

Emily raised a brow. “Bompa is giving you candy, hmm? Better not tell Dada about that...” For whatever overprotective reason, Matthew was very concerned about Celeste’s sugar consumption. (Chloe – and evidently, Matt – on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind so much.)

Celeste just blew a raspberry with her purple-stained tongue.

Emily was surprised when Clyde kneeled down beside her. He’d never been all the comfortable with the girl as a baby, but it seemed that for whatever reason – be it her less fragile age or some kind of personal growth on his part – he’d gotten over his fears. He proceeded to tweak the baby’s nose, making her giggle. “You’ve gotten so big, Little Star,” he said to the girl. He hadn’t seen Celeste since he and Emily had (sort of) broken up and he’d gone to Singapore to train at their flying college.

It was clear, though, that Celeste hadn’t forgotten him, because she gave him a pat on the cheek with her sticky palm and smiled toothily up at him.


	6. Chapter 6

“So, I get why I’m here and why Chloe is here,” Emily said to Matthew, “But why is _he_ coming?” She was chopping fruit for fruit salad and passing pieces of Celeste who was either eating them or spitting them out for Emily to find later.

“ _Because_ ,” Matthew said pointedly, “He’s my father and I want him to get to know my family.”

Emily groaned, rolled her eyes. “You know he refuses to even call you his son, right?”

“That’s just because he’s not comfortable with his new identity yet,” Matthew insisted. “But by showing him that he’s part of the family, he’ll...”

“Let me stop you right there...” she said gently, smile apologetic. “I _know_ Derek and I don’t want you to get your hopes up that he’s going to change because I doubt he ever will.”

Matthew sighed exaggeratedly. “ _Mom_ , you knew him twenty-five years ago – don’t you think it’s at all possible that he _may_ have changed in that time?”

Emily playfully pretended to mock him, making him roll his eyes. “I think it’s unlikely,” she muttered under her breath, but plastered on an overly pleasant smile, ignoring Matthew’s annoyed sigh.

The doorbell rang then, saving them from further argument. “If that’s Dad, play nice,” Matthew begged as Emily went to answer the door.

Instead, when she opened the door, she found Clyde standing there wearing his signature leather jacket and charming smile. “Hello, Darling,” he greeted, brandishing a bouquet of flowers.

Emily’s smile was almost shy as she accepted the bouquet, inhaling deeply the scent of the flowers. “I didn’t realize Matthew had invited you...” she said softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Matthew had always really liked Clyde – largely because he taught Matthew how to be cool – and apparently he was eager to have him back in his life...

Clyde shrugged in answer, followed Emily into the kitchen. “You know I never turn down a free meal,” he joked.

As she put the flowers in a vase, she said, “You don’t have to stay – it’s probably going to be weird and awkward... I mean, Derek is a veritable man child and...”

“I want to be here,” he interrupted, approaching behind her, resting his hands on her hips.

She turned, brow raised, but a playful smile on her lips. “Oh, really?” she teased.

He just smirked mischievously, then leaned in to kiss her.

Derek burst in the door then, poised to announce his presence, but choked on the words as he caught sight of Emily and Clyde.

...

Brunch was an awkward and stilted affair, in spite of Matthew’s best attempts to keep conversation light and companionable. It was clear that Derek wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone...except possibly Clyde. And that was only so that he could mock and degrade him.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“So, _Clyde_...” Derek said derisively, “What is it you do?”

Clyde raised a brow, exuding cockiness. “Technically speaking, I’m a pilot. But only until my band becomes successful.”

Derek scoffed. “You’re in a _band_?” He snorted derisively. “Isn’t that a little tenth grade?”

“Only as much as hooking up with everything that moves,” he retorted.

“Hey, umm, maybe let’s keep the conversation G-rated while my daughter is around?” Matthew suggested, glancing at Celeste as if in search of some sign she understood.

Celeste, though, happy in her ignorance, was busy cramming waffle in her mouth. Then, apparently noticing everyone looking at her, she extended her syrupy fistful of waffle as if in offering,

Derek, however, seemed oblivious in his distaste for Clyde. “I bet you’re _so_ much better,” he singsonged sarcastically. “Probably have a different girl in every city and...”

“ _Boys_ ,” Emily scolded. “We’re having brunch, not a pissing contest. Now, either eat like civilized men or go outside and measure them...”

Clyde eyed Derek, looking him up and down and smirking to himself, but said nothing.

“Something funny?” Derek asked, obviously not amused.

“Nothing at all,” Clyde replied innocently.

Derek stood up suddenly, knocking his chair to the floor in the process. “That’s it, we’re taking this outside,” he declared.

Clyde scoffed. “I’m not going to fight you. Aren’t we a little old for fisticuffs?”

“Scared?” he mocked. Clyde pointedly ignored him. Derek took that as invitation to make chicken noises.

For several moments, Clyde managed to diplomatically ignore his mocking...but only a few before he stood and slugged Derek across the face.

“Clyde!” Emily gasped sharply.

This was clearly what Derek was waiting for because he tackled Clyde to the floor and started hitting him with wild abandon.

“Derek, stop!” Emily cried, picking Celeste up from her high chair and holding her tight to her chest momentarily before passing her to Chloe who seemed stunned into silence.

Emily and Matthew managed to tear Derek and Clyde apart, both men bruised and panting from exertion. “Both of you to your corners,” Emily commanded darkly, looking none too amused. She lead Clyde into the kitchen with a significant look at Matthew, telling him to look after (and possibly scold) Derek.

Once the two of them were out of earshot, Emily heaved a sigh. “Clyde, what were you thinking?” she demanded. She pulled an ice pack out of the freezer, pressing it to his swelling eye socket.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just snapped,” he confessed.

“You scared Celeste half to death,” she scolded.

“I know. I just couldn’t take his mocking – like he’s so much better than me...”

Emily sighed again, shook her head. “Is this because I used to date him?”

“What? No! I...” he sputtered. “Why would you...”

She just raised a brow.

“He looks at you like you’re his possession,” Clyde snapped. “Like you belong to him...”

“He does not,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He gave her a pointed look.

“ _Clyde_ ,” she said, looking him square in the eye. “I’m with _you_. I _want_ to be with you, okay?” I love you.”

“You do?” He seemed surprised by that admission.

She just gave him an exasperated look. “Of course I do,” she said gently. “I never stopped loving you.”

He leaned in and gave her the faintest kiss before wincing in pain and pulling away, bringing tentative fingers to his split lip.


	7. Chapter 7

“Listen,” Derek said flatly, resting his palms on the bar as Chloe climbed onto one of the barstools with a wide grin on her face, “I like you guys, but...”

“No, you don’t,” Chloe interrupted to correct. “You tolerate us. On a good day.”

Derek rolled his eyes, repeated himself, “I _like_ you guys, but I’m going to go broke if I keep comping all your drinks.

Chloe cocked her head, rolled her eyes. “If you give me free drinks, I’ll introduce you to my hot twin sister who’s into older guys because she’s mad at my parents...” She waggled her brows at the implication.

A thoughtful expression crossed Derek’s face as he considered the offer. But he quickly shook his head, pretended to be offended at the suggestion. “I would _never_ date someone young enough to be my daughter!” He proceeded to mix her drink anyway.

She scoffed. Accepting the bright blue drink, she took a sip through the straw, careful not to smudge her lipstick. “ _Anyway_ ,” she said, changing the subject. “That’s not why I’m here...”

Looking skeptical, he asked, “To what do I owe this particular visit, then?” he asked.

“It’s almost Matthew’s birthday and I convinced his mom to let me throw the party this year and you probably know all these like really fancy places and since he’s turning twenty-five...”

Derek interrupted, “It’s Matthew’s birthday?”

“You don’t know your own kid’s birthday?” Chloe said, crinkling her nose in distaste. “That’s really sad, dude.”

“Hey,” he said, defensively, “I only met him a few months ago and...”

Chloe frantically waved off his explanation. “ _Shhhh_!” she hissed. Her eyes followed the movements of one of the bar backs. “Who is _that_?” she asked in a stage whisper as he moved boxes of beer bottles.

Derek glanced over his shoulder, following her gaze. “Oh, that’s Michael,” he said. “I just hired him. He’s okay, I guess. Kinda clumsy. But his mom is _hot_ and...”

“Well, I guess he takes after his mom then...” Chloe said dreamily. She pulled a pen out of her purse and scrawled her number on a nearby napkin. “Hey, could you give him this for me?” she asked.

He held up his hands in self-defence. “Please, don’t get me involved.”

“Come on, Derek!” she whined. “I’m hopelessly single and I haven’t been on a date in months. I’m sure you know what I mean...”

“Hey, for your information, I have no shortage of _dates_ , thank you very much,” he said as if offended by her insinuation. He looked down at the napkin with the girl’s delicate printing on it, declaring _Call me!_ and he felt guilt swell in his chest, even though he’d done nothing wrong. He knew how much Matthew liked Chloe and he just couldn’t kill any chance they had of possibly ending up together, no matter how convincing her puppy dog eyes were.

‘Accidentally’, he knocked over a nearby glass, hopelessly smudging the pen on the napkin. “Oops,” he said, quickly throwing away the napkin. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Fine. If you don’t want to help me, you can make it up to me another way...”

“Great!” he declared. “What way is that?”

“Tell me how long you’ve been in love with Emily...”

For several moments, Derek opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, mind obviously reeling as he struggled to respond. “What... I... I’m _not_ in love with Emily!” he eventually sputtered as if the insinuation were a personal affront. “I don’t fall in _love_ – love is for people who... I mean... I’ll have you know I got _six_ phone numbers last night alone!”

Chloe arched a brow in obvious skepticism at the over-the-top denial.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he scolded.

She held her hands up in surrender. “You can buy my silence,” she bargained.

Suspicious, but willing to entertain the offer, he asked, “Name your price...”

“Give Michael my number.”

...

When Derek burst through Emily’s front door, prepared to read her the riot act over blowing up his phone, he wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t Emily sitting on the couch sobbing into a bowl of half-melted ice cream while watching _Shrek_.

For a few moments, he stood on the threshold of the living room, watching her.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she muttered, apparently getting tired of being stared at.

Rolling his eyes, he crossed the room to sit next to her. He opened his mouth, teasing words poised on his tongue, when a thought occurred to him, forestalling all mocking. “Did that British bastard break up with you?” he asked, trying not to sound too gleeful over the prospect.

“What? No!” she snapped. “I’m upset because Matthew isn’t letting me plan his birthday. Which you’d know if you actually bothered to read your text messages before swooping in here like Batman or something...”

“And how exactly is that my fault?” he inquired, having read that particular text message before skimming all the others (he didn’t think he could exactly be blamed for skimming, considering she’d sent him about sixteen in a row).

She shot him a glare. “He’s changed. He never acted like this before he met you,” she accused. “You waltzed into our lives and suddenly he doesn’t need me anymore!”

Once again, he opened his mouth to make some smart aleck remark, but there was something about her red, puffy eyes looking beseechingly at him that made him falter...

“I’ve planned his birthday parties since he was born,” she lamented, almost too quiet for him to hear. “It was just the two of us – I couldn’t believe I’d kept him alive an entire year, all on my own... No one seemed to think I could do it and I’d proved them all wrong. I saved all year and paid a professional photographer an obscene amount to take cake smash pictures...”

When he spoke again, it seemed to surprise her, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Can I see?”

She arched a brow. “See what?”

“The pictures...”

“Oh.” She studied him for a moment as if trying to gauge whether he was being genuine. Apparently finding nothing suspicious, she nodded once. “But if I hear _one_ word about my hairstyle or...” she started to accuse.

He held up his hands in self-defence. “Why do you have to make everything so damn hard, Em?” he asked pointedly. “I’m trying to show an interest in our son’s life...”

And, because he was, in fact, trying, she didn’t bother pointing out that that was the first time he’d called Matthew his son without gagging.

Pulling an album from the bookcase, she flipped through the pages, then paused. “Keep in mind I was still carrying some baby weight, so don’t even think about...”

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he insisted.

She snorted with laughter because if there was one thing Derek Morgan was not, it was a gentleman. She passed him the album anyway, knowing that if she looked for too long at the pictures she’d be reduced to tears all over again.

Derek was taken aback by the pictures. By the look of pure adoration in Matthew’s eyes as he looked up at Emily. By the pure joy in Emily’s eyes as she stared back down at the baby. In every picture, the boy’s tiny body was smeared with icing, his chubby cheeks bulging with cake. In every one, Emily’s eyes shone with love.

“I need more ice cream,” Emily announced, startling him as if he’d forgotten she was there. She stood, leaving him alone with the memories that felt like a knife in her chest.

Once he was alone, Derek pried one of the images – his favourite one, featuring mother and son meeting for a clumsy baby kiss – from where it was glued to the page, slipping the photograph into his jacket pocket.


	8. Chapter 8

Matthew leaned against the wall outside Derek’s bar, phone to his ear, struggling to hear over the thumping of music filtering out from inside every time someone opened the door. In all Celeste’s life, he’d never once missed saying goodnight to her and he wasn’t about to break that tradition tonight.

“Are you being good for Bompa?” he asked the toddler, smile on his face as she babbled an answer. “Did you brush your teeth?”

He held the phone away from his ear as the toddler shouted something into the phone.

Laughing, he opened his mouth to say something in response, when he was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder, a boisterous declaration of, “There you are! You’re missing all the fun...”

“Oh, I was just saying goodnight to Celeste and...” he started to explain.

He didn’t get the chance to finish, though, before the interloper grabbed his phone away. “You should be sleeping, little Polliwog,” she said to the girl on the other end. “And Daddy should be enjoying his birthday celebration.” And with that, she hung up the phone.

“Hey!” Matthew whined, grabbing for the phone. “I didn’t get to finish saying goodnight and...”

She kept it just outside his reach. “She’ll be _fine_ with Dad and you are being a total stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a few drinks...chill out for once. Enjoy the party, live a little.”

“Chloe,” he said on a petulant sigh, “I don’t know half the people in there – I just want to go home and...”

“No!” she barked. “You are _forbidden_ from leaving your own birthday party before you’ve at least gotten a little drunk...”

He sighed, attempted to resist rolling his eyes. “Why I agreed to let you plan my party, I’ll never know...” He wasn’t usually the loud, boisterous, alcohol-fuelled party type (which is why it was so inexplicable that he’d ended up with Chloe in the first place, considering the fact that those kinds of parties were exactly her oeuvre). In fact, on his last birthday, he and Emily had taken Celeste on an impromptu roadtrip to see the pony swim on Chincoteague Island.

But Chloe had been insistent in her desire to plan the party this year (and he’d hoped that meant something good for their relationship), so he’d agreed. Albeit, trepidatiously.

Apparently, with good reason...

That’s not to say that she hadn’t done a good job – she’d gone all out with the eighties theme, including a light-up dance floor and themed cocktails – it was just more noise and people and wildness than he was used to, considering he usually celebrated with his mom.

She just laughed, shook her head fondly. Then, she reached over to grab a fistful of Matthew’s shirt, pulling him into a kiss.

...

“There you are,” Clyde murmured into Emily’s ear, startling her, having approached almost silently under cover of the pounding music. He pressed a kiss below her ear, hands on her hips. He spun her around on the barstool to face him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned in to kiss him properly...immediately tasting the alcohol on his breath. “How much have you had to drink?” she asked him with a raised brow. “You taste like a distillery.”

He shrugged, either not sure or not sure she’d like the answer.

“I think that’s a sign it’s time to call it a night,” she said pointedly, even as he reached past her for her glass, downing the rest of her drink.

When she fixed him with an exasperated stare, he held up his hands in self-defence. “Come on, Darling, it’s a party...and you’re sitting here moping.”

“I’m not _moping_ ,” she insisted, pouted. “I’m feeling...lachrymose.”

He cupped her cheek, running a thumb along her cheekbone tenderly. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

She pursed her lips, apparently debating whether she did, in fact, want to talk about it... Eventually, she sighed softly, gaze flicking over to where Matthew was dancing with Chloe. “He’s growing up so fast,” she lamented. “It seems like last week I was changing his diapers and I blinked and now he’s a grown man with a daughter of his own...”

Clyde watched her for a moment before asking, “You want more children, don’t you?”

“A part of me does, yes,” she admitted, “But logically speaking, I don’t know that I can do it. Bringing a child into the world is a lifetime a commitment and...” She shook her head, sighed. “Doing it once was hard enough, especially as a single mother.”

“What if there was someone by your side?” Clyde asked. “Someone who wanted to be a father?”

She raised a brow. She’d never know Clyde to show any signs of having paternal aspirations. “You want to have a baby?”

He tipped her chin up so she was forced to meet his eyes. “I want to have a baby with _you_ ,” he emphasized. “A little Easter rugrat running around, the perfect combination of the both of us. I can see it...” He grinned, kissed her. “Can’t you?”

“I don’t know, Clyde – there’s a lot to consider. I mean, you’re talking about bringing a whole human being into the world... We’ve been on and off so many times already and if we were to go through with this and something went wrong again, I don’t know that I could do it again – raise a child alone.

“Just think about it,” he pressed. “I’m not Derek, okay? I’m not about to walk away from you like that.”

She smiled softly. “I know,” she assured him. “You’re nothing like him.”

“Promise me you’ll think about it?”

She nodded.

“Now, why don’t you join me on the dance floor and show those kids how we did it in the actual eighties?” he suggested.

She barked out a laugh. “I’m afraid I’m far too sober to break out my dance moves.”

Smirking, he waggled his brows, leaned in to whisper, “Then maybe we should get out of here and you can show me those _other_ moves you’re so very talented at?”


	9. Chapter 9

Matthew groaned as he shuffled into the kitchen, eyes narrowed against the bright light streaming in the wide window behind the sink. “I think I’m dying...” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

Emily had apparently been waiting for him to wake up because she had prepared an array of hangover remedies and a plate of breakfast in anticipation of him waking up feeling the effects of the previous night.

(She’d been hungover enough times to know better than to say anything in response...the pounding in his head was likely punishment enough.)

He grabbed for the bottle of Gatorade and the painkillers, tossing them back with a generous swallow of the drink, then flopped down on the couch, covering his eyes. “Why did I let Chloe talk me into those tequila shots?” he lamented.

“You drank tequila?” Emily asked, surprised. “I’ve barely ever seen you drink a beer...”

He shrugged, but didn’t seem to have a good excuse for his newfound drinking habits. Aside from the fact that Chloe had asked and he was apparently helpless against her whims. “If it makes you feel any better, I may never drink again...” He paused, thought. “Assuming I survive this hangover.”

She just smiled, shook her head. “Eat,” she commanded, setting a plate of pancakes on the coffee table in front of him. “It’ll help,” she added. As he tucked into the stack of pancakes with obvious gusto, she said leadingly, “So... You and Chloe again?”

“Apparently.” The word came out accompanied by a spray of crumbs. He couldn’t help the wide, almost dreamy, grin that split his face as he reminisced on the night’s surprising turn of events.

She just shook her head, smiling softly because he was her son and seeing him happy was the source of her greatest happiness. A beat. She sighed, asked, “Why are you so head over heels for her? You could have any girl...”

“ _Mom_ ,” he griped, rolling his eyes because they’d had this conversation at least a thousand times before.

She held up her hands in self-defence, already knowing where his rebuttal was going. “I know, I know...you’ve loved her since you were kids, I just don’t understand why...”

He cut her off, “I want Celeste to have a family – a _whole_ family – with her mom and dad together.” Then, seeing the way Emily’s face fell, he quickly backpedalled, “I don’t mean that as a judgment against the way you raised me. I had a great childhood. It’s just not what I want for Celeste.”

“So, are you _officially_ back together?” Emily queried, rather than open that particular can of worms. “Or was this just a one-time thing?” She’d seen her son go down this road more than once before and it always ended badly – she just didn’t want to see him heartbroken again, forced to pick up all the pieces that Chloe always seemed to leave in her wake.

“I think this is the real thing, Mom,” he insisted. “The way she kissed me...it felt _different_. Like it meant something.” He got a far-off dreamy look on his face. “Maybe we could even give Celeste a sibling.”

Emily made a little alarmed squeaking sound. Then, realizing how incriminating that reaction was, she tried to cover it with a cough, deliberately avoiding Matthew’s eyes.

Matthew raised a brow at her reaction. “Something wrong?” he asked, not falling for her lame cover attempt.

“No, nothing,” she was quick to insist, though her voice was an octave too high-pitched to be believable.

Matthew obviously didn’t believe that, though. “Did something happen last night?” he asked, “I saw you talking to Clyde... He didn’t break up with you, did he?” The idea produced an obvious note of anger in him (though he was far too hungover to act on it...).

“Sort of the opposite, actually,” she admitted under her breath.

“Mom?”

She sighed, not entirely sure why she was opening up to him about such a private matter, but knowing that she trusted him explicitly... “Clyde kind of...suggested that we have a baby.”

Matthew blinked in silent surprise for a few moments before finding his voice again. “Oh... Umm... Is that what you want?”

“I have no idea,” she admitted. “When you were growing up, that’s all I wanted. But I’m not exactly young anymore and Clyde is, well... _Clyde_.”

“Mom, the only thing that matters is whether or not having another baby would make you happy,” Matthew said. “You deserve to be happy.”

She smiled softly. “I _am_ happy,” she insisted, “Being your mother.”

He raised a brow. “But?” he prompted.

“But I always wanted a big family...” she confessed.

Matthew nodded slowly, obviously thinking something over. Finally, he said, “Clyde is a good man and he obviously loves you very much. I think he’d be a good father.”

It was Emily’s turn to prompt, “But?”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said gently. At her confused look, he explained, “You told me that you almost died when you were pregnant with me – if anything were to happen to you this time...” He trailed off sadly.

“You’re never going to lose me,” she insisted. She settled next to him on the couch, gently stroking the wispy hair on the back of his neck that always seemed to be just a tad too long.

Smiling softly, Matthew leaned into her touch, eyes falling shut. “Good,” he murmured, “Because I want you around for Celeste for a _very_ long time.”

She laughed a little. “Hey, do you really think the two of you could get rid of me this easily?” When her words failed to produce a smile on his face, she added, “Look, I know there’s no certainty about the future, but I promise you I’ll do my best to be there for a long long time.”

He opened his eyes, met her gaze. “Thank you, Mom,” he said sincerely. He heaved a sigh borne of weariness and pounding headache. “Maybe before you and Clyde have a baby, you should try adopting a cat...” It wasn’t entirely clear from his tone whether it was intended to be a joke or not.

She nodded, gaze unfocused and thoughtful. “Yeah,” she said on an exhale. “Yeah, maybe.”


	10. Chapter 10

“So...” Derek said to the toddler standing in the middle of his living room as the door clicked shut behind Matthew, apparently at a loss as to what to do with the child now that they were alone together.

As if sensing his hesitation, Celeste screwed up her face and started wailing.

Derek immediately blanched. “No, kid, no!” he begged, “Please don’t cry! Help me out here...” He moved to pick her up, but she batted his hands away and waddled out of his reach. (If that hurt his feelings, he tried not to let it show.)

Then, instead of pleading for her parents or even Emily, Celeste begged for the last person Derek expected... “C’yde!” she demanded. “Wan’ C’yde!”

“Clyde!?” Derek repeated, personally offended, before realizing he wasn’t about to convince a toddler of anything through logic. “Pshhhh,” he said instead, “We don’t need _him_ – we can have fun on our own, right?”

Celeste did not seem convinced. Fat tears clung to her lashes, making her look incredibly pitiable.

Scrambling to think of something that would appeal to the child, Derek glanced about the apartment in a panic...until his gaze landed on the TV. “Hey, kid, you want to watch TV? I bet we can find some stupid Disney movie or something...”

...

Derek was feeling pretty smug.

Celeste had stopped crying as he turned on some mindless cartoon movie and seemed to be at least tolerating his presence.

(Why Matthew insisted that parenting was hard, he’d never know...)

Apparently, though, he’d made one grave error...as he quickly discovered when, on-screen, a rather fearsome looking fish attacked.

Celeste shrieked in terror, running to hide from the terror on-screen.

...

“ _Finally_ ,” Derek huffed at the knock on the door. Celeste had only been his responsibility for all of an hour and a half, but he was already thoroughly exhausted and ready for a good stiff drink (among other things)...

He flung the door open, words poised on his tongue, ready to lie through his teeth to Emily about how easy it was to take care of a kid...only, it _wasn’t_ Emily.

Blinking, stunned, for a few moments, Derek struggled to form a coherent thought.

Celeste, though, didn’t have the same problem. “C’yde! C’yde!” the toddler sing-songed merrily, waddling towards the newcomer, arms outstretched, making grabby motions in search of his attention.

Clyde lifted her into his arms, balancing her on his hip as he righted himself to face Derek. “Needless to say, you were expecting someone else,” he said, a slight smirk on his face.

“Emily didn’t tell me you’d be picking up the baby,” Derek said rather than respond directly. He didn’t quite understand why he felt the need to justify himself when he’d done nothing wrong, only knowing that Clyde’s smug smirk made his blood boil.

“She had an emergency at work,” Clyde replied. “If that’s all...we should really get going.” He gestured over his shoulder for emphasis.

Derek nodded. “Sure. Bye, kiddo,” he said, waving to Celeste who seemed to have long since forgotten his presence.

Clyde tickled the girl’s ribs. “Say bye-bye to Grandpa,” he prompted. (Whether he knew the moniker irritated Derek or not was unclear...)

“Buh-bye,” Celeste echoed with a little wave.

As Derek watched the other man walk away with his granddaughter – her little arms wrapped around his neck in a fond embrace – he couldn’t help but wonder what Clyde had done to win her affection...

...

Wandering the aisles of the toy store, Derek felt rather dazed and entirely out of place – he hadn’t been in a toy store since he was a kid...he had no idea what kids liked anymore. And he wasn’t all that good at picking out gifts in the first place – he usually just had his assistant pick them out for him.

This was different though... Maybe it was wrong to try to buy Celeste’s affection, but it was the only idea he had that seemed at all likely to work. (It was becoming pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to win her over via conventional methods.)

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand over the back of his head.

(He could already see Emily roll her eyes and hear Matthew’s scolding when he showed up with toys for the child...but when had he ever cared about their opinions anyway?)

He was startled from his dumbfounded decision-making by shrill laughter as a little girl dashed past him in squeaking sneakers.

“Kimberly!” a woman scolded, chasing after her. “If you can’t stay beside me, you have to sit in the cart!”

Ignoring her mother, the child reached for the Barbie on the lowest shelf with a conspiratorial glance at Derek.

Figuring the little girl had to be close to Celeste's age, Derek knelt down beside her and asked, “Is that the best Barbie?”

She nodded eagerly, showing it to him with a proud smile.

Her mother caught up to her then, flashing Derek an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, scooping up her daughter. “Kids in a toy store, you know?”

He laughed, plastering on his most charming smile. “She’s a cutie,” he said. “Takes after her mother...” He winked, trying to be subtle as he checked for a wedding band on her hand.

Normally he would have avoided a single mother like the plague, but he was starting to reconsider now that he had a kid – and a grandkid – of his own (he didn’t want to seem like a hypocrite afterall). Besides, setting the kiddos up on a playdate was the perfect pretense for a little one-on-one time...

“So, shopping for friend or family?” the woman asked with a nod toward the nearby cart.

“Oh, umm...well,” he stammered, worried that she might be put off by the truth. He sighed, spit out the truth, “My granddaughter, actually... But I have no idea what kids her age like. Maybe you could help me out?”

She grinned. “Are you sure you’re not just making up an excuse to talk to me?” she teased.

“I would _never_!” he insisted, pretending to be offended. Then, with a smirk, he added, “It’s just a perk.”


	11. Chapter 11

Matthew sat on the couch in the living room of the Simmons’ house feeling mildly uncomfortable. Not because he wasn’t at home there, but because he wasn’t sure what Matt would think of him and Chloe getting back together. (Well, _back_ might be an inaccurate descriptor, but still...)

Kristy came into the room with a glass of ice tea and a warm smile for the father of her granddaughter. “Chloe should be back with Celeste any time now,” she said, “Then we can have dinner.”

Matthew smiled, nodded. He often had dinner at the Simmons’ house, like part of the family, so he was used to spending time there, even if Chloe was absent (as she often was, busy on dates and partying).

“How is your mother?” Kristy asked, settling opposite him. The two women were friends, but between their busy schedules, they rarely spent time together.

“Good,” he replied. “She’s at some medical conference in New York this weekend, otherwise she would’ve come for dinner.”

There was a commotion at the front door then, Celeste's familiar voice ringing out, calling for ‘Bompa!’. Then, Matt’s joyful baritone echoed out, heavy footfalls travelling down the hall to life the toddler into his arms.

“Look who I found,” Chloe called out.

But before she could announce who exactly it was, someone was ruffling Matthew’s hair as they dropped unceremoniously onto the couch beside him. Then, his lips were sealed ina demanding kiss.

“Chloe...” he started, flustered.

At the same moment, Kristy sputtered, “Lily!”

She whipped around to fix her mother with an annoyed look. “ _What_ , Mom?”

Matthew’s eyes flew open. “L-Lily?” he repeated.

Chloe stood, stunned, at the threshold to the living room, eyes flicking from Lily to Matthew. “What... What’s going on?” she rasped.

Lily glanced over her shoulder at her twin sister. “Didn’t he tell you?” she asked, “We’re together now.” She grinned.

“What!?” Chloe hissed.

“ _What_?” Matthew echoed, dumbfounded.

Lily nodded seriously. “We kissed on his birthday – isn’t that right, Matty?”

All three women turned their attention to him. “Well, I mean... Technically... I guess we _sort of_ maybe kissed a little,” he stammered.

“Matthew, how could you?” Chloe asked.

“To be fair,” he defended himself, “I had a lot to drink and it was really dark – I thought it was you...”

That didn’t appear to make the situation any better. And it certainly didn’t help when Lily snuggled into his side, nuzzling his neck, in spite of his best attempts to put space between them.

“I can’t believe this...” Chloe said, incredulous. It was unclear whether she was talking to Matthew or to Lily. Possibly both of them.

At that moment, Matt came into the room with Celeste on his hip. He looked from his wife to his daughters to Matthew, concern and confusion creasing his face. “Do I want to know the cause of all the consternation?” he asked.

Matthew blanched visibly, fearing that he was about to learn what it was that he did in his spare time to create more muscles than any doctor should reasonably have...

...

“Pen... _Pen_!” Derek said firmly into the phone, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the hotel lobby. “Would you _please_ just relax? All you have to do is make sure nothing burns down while I’m gone...”

He hoped he sounded more confident in her abilities than he felt, given that it was the first time he’d left the bar to the supervision of his second-in-command. She was a wonderful woman, but she was, well, known to be a bit scatterbrained...to put it nicely.

He hadn’t even really wanted to go to the bar owners’ convention in the first place, knowing it would be a weekend of dull speeches and focus groups...and, if it hadn’t been for the open bar and the (hopefully) surplus of loose women, he wouldn’t have bothered.

As he hung up the phone, there was a heavy sigh as someone flopped down onto the overstuffed sofa next to him. He looked up sharply, a Cheshire Cat-like grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, well...what a _lovely_ surprise,” he drawled.

The newcomer whipped her head up at the sound of his voice, a decidedly unimpressed expression crossing her face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” she muttered. “The first weekend off I get in _months_ and _you’re_ here?”

He shrugged as if the matter couldn’t be helped. “Guess you’re just lucky,” he added, teasingly.

“Seriously,” she demanded, “What are you doing here? And don’t say it’s to pick up doctors...”

He rolled his eyes. “I happen to be here for work,” he said with an air of moral superiority.

She raised a brow in obvious disbelief.

“Don’t give me that look – I’m not the one who scheduled a bar owners’ convention at the same time as a medical convention...” He paused, thought. “ _Although_... Posing as a doctor to pick up chicks isn’t the _worst_ idea I’ve ever heard.”

She scoffed audibly.

“Come on, Em,” he said, elbowing her playfully, “I’ll trade you passes: you could have a few drinks, maybe loosen up a little...”

She just shook her head, refusing to dignify that with a response. “Anyway. I have to go unpack my blazers before they crease, so if you’ll excuse me...”

He stood, offered her an elbow as if a perfect gentleman. “May I walk the lady to her room?”

“If you feel that you must,” she said, deadpan, though refusing to take his proffered elbow.

He followed her to the elevator bank, trying to pretend like he wasn’t checking out the way her suit skirt clung to the curve of her ass. “What floor?” he asked as they stepped inside the elevator.

“Twenty-three,” she said, glancing down at her phone.

A grin spread across his face. “Well, what a lovely coincidence...” he said slyly, flashing his keycard, emblazoned with the number 2316.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” she asked, though the question was rhetorical. She showed him her keycard – 2318 – making him practically cackle with glee.


	12. Chapter 12

In sock feet, Emily padded along the hotel hallway, rather hoping to avoid running into any of her colleagues, considering the fact that she wore a thin satin pair of pyjama shorts, paired with her blouse with several buttons undone, exposing her bra. Usually she was more put-together, even after such a long day, but to be fair, it had been a _long_ day...

She pressed the numbers of the only remotely healthy item in the vending machine (not that she tended to make it a habit to eat food provided by a _machine_ , but it was late and she was exhausted and it’s not like anyone was going to _tell_ on her...) when someone cleared their throat from behind her, making her jump.

Whirling around, hand clutched to her chest as if afraid her heart might leap from its cage, her startled expression turned quickly to one of aggravation. “Why is it always _you_?” she demanded.

“Luck, I guess,” Derek replied, trying (and failing) to keep his gaze from wandering. “Well, don’t you look nice,” he said, unable to help flirting it seemed, “Got a hot video call with your boyfriend planned?” He waggled his brows to make it entirely clear exactly what he meant by that.

She scowled at him. “Whatever is going on in that sleazy little mind of yours had better stop this instant,” she threatened. “And _no_ , I won’t be chatting with Clyde tonight – he’s flying across the Atlantic, thank you very much.”

“So, you’re commiserating by eating vending machine snacks?” he asked skeptically.

“This is dinner,” she corrected. “Then, I plan to fall asleep in front of the TV, if you must know.”

He blinked at her as if expecting some kind of punchline. “You can’t eat _that_ ,” he insisted. “That’s not _food_.” At her unamused expression, he pressed, “They’re about to deliver my room service and I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to share with you.”

She bit at her lip in thought. It was a tempting offer to have a real meal after a long day of focus groups...but then again... “I don’t know, Derek,” she said, “I also really need to shower and...”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s a shower in my room too, you know?” he pointed out. The look in her eyes must have been especially hesitant because he rushed to add, “That was an absolutely innocent proposition, by the way. I’ll keep my eyes and hands to myself, I swear.”

Huffing, she shrugged helplessly. “Fine. You win. But only because I’m starving. And, judging by the ice bucket in your hands, you have a bottle of wine waiting... Give me your key card.”

...

Emily stepped out of the shower, finger-combing her wet locks and almost forgetting that she wasn’t in her own room...judging by the way she’d forgotten to button up her blouse.

In that moment, Derek had to use all of his self-control to keep from pressing her up against the wall and kissing her like his life depended on it... He cleared his throat. “Is this the thank you for inviting you to dinner?” he asked playfully.

She glanced from him, down to her open blouse, instantly blushing as her fingers leapt to her buttons in a rush to prevent any _more_ skin from being exposed. “Is dinner here yet?” she asked, trying to draw attention away from her near nip slip...

He gestured to the veritable feast waiting on the little table in the corner of the room.

Mouth nearly watering, she turned to him with a raised brow. “You ordered all this just for you?”

He shrugged. “I’m hungry,” he said in self-defence as he proceeded to pour her a glass of the chilled wine.

Accepting the glass, she took a greedy sip of the wine. “I’m glad to see your taste in wine has improved over the years...” she teased.

“Hey, we were young and broke then,” he said. “And, to be entirely fair, we usually preferred something much stronger.”

“Cheap and strong,” she mused sarcastically, “The recipe for good decisions...”

He laughed, clinking his glass against hers in agreement. “One of those ‘good’ decisions happens to be our son,” he pointed out.

She raised a brow. “I think that’s the first time you’ve referred to him as our son without gagging,” she said, only half-joking.

“I’ve _matured_ ,” he said in a faux hoity-toity voice. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very mature, responsible parental figure.”

She scoffed, but was apparently in a more genteel mood because she gave him a soft smile, murmured, “You have grown a lot since Matthew came into your life. I don’t know why you did it, but whatever your motive was...” She trailed off, shook her head. “It meant a lot to him. And to me.”

There was a pause then as they traded a soft smile.

In that moment, something palpable crackled in the air between them, though later neither of them could quite name what it was. Their eyes connected, gaze flickering from eyes to lips and back. Then, in the next moment, Derek’s lips were on hers, hand on her hip, guiding her back against the wall.

She had the briefest thought that she should stop this before it went any further. But that thought vanished just as quickly – she wrapped her arms around his neck, her leg wrapping around his hip. She moaned softly as his growing hard on bumped up against her throbbing cunt. She bucked her hips against his, the sensation of him through the thin fabric of her satin shorts was nearly enough to send her over the edge.

“Fuck, Em, you feel so good...” he groaned, then ripped open her blouse, exposing her breasts, and he kissed his way down her throat and onto her breasts, nipping at the tender flesh. He wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking at the sensitive bud, making her back arch off the wall.

“Oh, God, Derek...” she husked, moaned. And in that moment, she turned herself completely over to whatever may follow.


	13. Chapter 13

Emily woke up, rolled over to look at the alarm clock beside the bed, then groaned at the movement jarring her head. “Fuck,” she hissed as her head swam. She took a shaky step out of bed, realizing she was naked as the sheet slipped away. She grabbed the sheet at the last moment, tugging it to wrap around herself.

There came a groan from the other side of the bed. “Hey,” a familiar voice whined, “ _Cold_...”

She whipped around at the voice. “Jesus Christ!” she yelped, “Derek!?”

“The one and only,” he mumbled. “Could you keep your voice down now?”

“What are you doing in my room?” she demanded.

Groaning, he sat up, wincing. “It’s _my_ room, Em...”

She glanced about in alarm, realizing that it was not, in fact, her room. “Why am I in your bed? _Naked_?”

He waggled his brows in answer.

“Derek!” she cried. “What the _fuck_?” She took several steps backward, clutching the sheet tighter around herself. “You got me drunk and seduced me!”

“Not true,” he countered. “You were more than willing to down that wine. What happened after that...well, I’m not all that clear on. But I don’t recall hearing any complaints.”

“Complaints?” she repeated incredulously. “You know I’m with Clyde!”

He shrugged. “That sounds like a you problem...”

Emily frantically moved about the room in search of her clothes. “You’re a real selfish prick, you know that, right?” she hissed.

“Hey!” he said as if personally affronted, “I wasn’t so _selfish_ last night – if you’ll recall, I have you three...”

“Stop!” she shouted, cutting him off mid-sentence.

He rolled his eyes. “God, you’re such a drama queen,” he scoffed. “We had sex, big deal. The only people that know are in this room – it’s up to us whether it stays that way.”

She raised a brow at his surprising generosity. “So, you’re not going to go around bragging about this?”

He shrugged, grinned mysteriously.

“Because I swear to God, Derek, if you breathe a _word_ of this to Clyde...” she threatened.

“It’ll be out little secret.”

With one last glare, she shut herself in the bathroom to rethink every decision leading up to that point.

...

As Emily stepped out of the taxi in front of her house, she heaved a weary sigh, the weight of her secret heavy on her shoulders. All she wanted was to settle in a hot bath, eat some chocolate ice cream in bed, then sleep for the next eighteen hours in an attempt to forget her rather spectacular lack of judgment...

One thing was rather obviously missing from her evening: wine. Considering what had happened last time she’d overindulged, she was seriously considering never drinking ever again.

As she unlocked the door and stepped into the foyer, lugging her suitcase in after her, it became rather obvious that something was amiss. She reached to flick on the light, but the switch failed to produce a reaction.

Stepping further into the house, she found candles lining every surface, their flames flickering with every whisper of air. “Hello?” she called out as she shucked off her blazer, hanging it over the newel post. “Matthew? Is the power out?”

There was no reply.

Instead, she found a path of rose petals scattered across the floor and, briefly, she thought she might’ve interrupted her son’s romantic evening...an assumption that proved false as arms wrapped around her waist, lips pressing against the nape of her neck.

“Welcome home, Em,” Clyde murmured against her skin. He must’ve felt the way she tensed in his arms because he asked, “Did I startle you?”

She gave a high little laugh. “A little,” she said, “I just wasn’t expecting you home today...”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “I wanted to surprise you. I got in a day early and thought we could make good use of the extra day...” He began unbuttoning her blouse, making it entirely clear what he meant by that.

“That’s sweet,” she agreed, turning in his embrace to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him properly.

Taking her by the hand, he lead her over the couch and offered her one of the glasses of wine he had waiting on the coffee table. “Tell me about the conference,” he encouraged as he settled next to her on the couch.

She shrugged. “Nothing much to tell. It was alright. Rather boring, actually.” She hoped it wasn’t too obvious that she was trying to deflect and change the subject.

Clyde failed to be so easily dissuaded, though. “I want to know,” he pressed. “I’m sure it was more interesting than my weekend.”

“Really,” she maintained. “It was full of boring self-important doctors who only want to talk about their work – you wouldn’t be interested.” She set the wine glass back down without taking a sip.

He raised a brow. “What’s wrong? It’s not like you to turn down wine...”

“It’s nothing,” she said with a grimace she hoped he’d buy as a genuine smile. “I’m just tired and I haven’t eaten anything...”

“Well, I hope you’re not too tired for this...” he husked, leaning in to kiss behind her ear, his lips travelling down her throat. His hand moved from her hip to cup her breast.

“Clyde, no,” she whispered, gently pushing him away, “Please. Not tonight.” Disappointment was palpable in the way his hands tensed on her body. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “I’m just not feeling it tonight. I think I’m getting my period...”

He sighed, but nodded. “I’m sorry, Darling. I don’t mean to pressure you.” He plastered on a smile. “Why don’t I run you a bath and then I’ll leave you to it. Take some Advil and get some rest. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Her smile was soft, almost tender. She kissed him gently. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

“I love you too,” he agreed. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Feel better.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Emily heaved a sigh, feeling tears pricking behind her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel that tomorrow wasn’t going to bring the relief he’d promised...


	14. Chapter 14

Matthew settled into the booth at the diner across from Chloe. “Hi, munchkin,” he greeted his daughter who was sat in a booster seat next to her mother. “Daddy missed you so much!”

“Dadada,” she babbled, blowing him a kiss before delving back into her pancakes with gusto. Her face and hands were already sticky with syrup, seeing as she still preferred to eat with her hands rather than a fork – mostly because it was faster and easier. (If there was one thing she’d gotten from her mother, it was her impatience...)

“Hi,” Matthew greeted Chloe with a rather guilty expression – tinged with hope, though – a knowing she was undoubtedly still angry over the whole Lily debacle, but hoping that she’d forgiven him after he explained how it had happened...

“Hello, Matthew,” she said frostily. Obviously, there was no forgiveness to be had.

He sighed, glanced down at the menu to avoid meeting her gaze, even though they’d been to this diner every weekend for most of Celeste’s life so he knew the menu pretty much by heart. “So, how does our little girl’s week look?” he asked in an attempt at finding some neutral conversational territory.

Chloe, though, didn’t seem interested in playing nice, judging by the way she shot back, “I don’t know, how does the inside of my sister’s mouth taste?”

He groaned because, while a fair statement, that didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Do you want me to apologize again?” he asked, sincere with just a touch of sarcasm. “Because I already explained to you what happened and I get that you’re upset, but...”

“Oh, do you?” she replied snidely, “Do you get why I’m upset that my child’s father was sucking face with my twin sister at a birthday party _I_ had planned for him out of the goodness of my heart because I want us to be friends?”

“Chloe...” he started, feeling guilt surge in his chest, even though he hadn’t _really_ done anything technically wrong.

She cut him off. “You know what, no. We’re here to discuss Celeste's schedule and that’s it. That’s all. End of story.”

He nodded because what else could he do? Much as he might want to fix things with Chloe, if she didn’t want to hear him out, there was no making her listen. (Her stubbornness, her fearlessness, her take-no-shit attitude used to be one of the things he liked best about her, but in that moment it wasn’t serving him very well...) “Okay,” he said, pulling up the calendar app on his phone. “I booked her in for a dental appointment on Tuesday and...”

Before he could finish his sentence, though, he was once again accosted by a familiar form pressing itself against his side, unable to get any closer to him unless she physically sat in his lap. “Hey, Matty...” Lily sing-songed, then leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Wh-what are... What are you doing here?” Matthew sputtered as Chloe glared daggers at them from across the table. She seemed just as surprised by her twin’s presence as Matthew, though decidedly less conflicted about her emotions on the matter.

“I wanted to see you,” she said brightly. “Chloe mentioned you guys were meeting here, so I thought I’d come along and give you a little moral support.” Then, under her breath, she added, “God knows you need it with Steamroller Chloe barrelling all over you as usual...”

Matthew winced at Chloe’s expression. “That’s...sweet,” he said slowly, trying to be diplomatic about it, “But it’s really not necessary and...”

“Nonsense. I’m just being a good girlfriend.”

Matthew seemed too stunned by her use of the word _girlfriend_ to form any coherent thoughts. “I... We... I mean...” he sputtered, turning beet red.

If anything, his stammering seemed to spur Lily on, as she cuddled up to his side, grinning up at him with a simpering smile. Then, she locked eyes with her sister across the table, her expression smug, almost cocky...

“This is none of your business, Lily!” Chloe snapped, the first to break the frosty silence. “Why don’t you just go _away_!?”

Lily cocked her head. “I’m here because Matthew wants me here,” she retorted. “Don’t you, Matty?”

Both sisters turned to fix Matthew with an expectant expression, obviously waiting for him to either confirm or deny the statement. He seemed too flustered to make any kind of logical response, though.

Lily just giggled, tousled Matthew’s hair, making Chloe glare daggers at them.

“Can we maybe focus on our _daughter_ instead of PDA and making me want to vomit?” Chloe demanded pointedly.

Matthew slid away from Lily, a chagrined expression on his face.

...

“I don’t care,” Chloe said firmly, arms crossed over her chest. “I already have something planned with Celeste and that’s final.”

Ordinarily Chloe and Matthew worked well together while arranging Celeste's schedule for the coming week, but this particular negotiation found them bitterly embroiled in animosity. And it wasn’t exactly a secret why...

“Dammit, Chlo! Why do you have to be such a _bitch_ about everything?” Lily snapped. “Matty is just doing his best as a dad – can’t you just let him do that instead of being such a fucking...”

“Watch your language!” Chloe hissed, “There’s a _child_ here!”

“Please?” Matthew added, trying to be polite. “Celeste is like a little sponge right now, she’ll repeat anything you say.” He sighed. “Thank you for your support, though.”

Chloe was glowering. “You know, since the two of you get along _so well_ maybe you should just go on a date already...”

A flash of hurt crossed Matthew’s face, but he quickly covered it. “Fine, Maybe we will,” he snapped. Then, turning to Chloe, “Lily, since my plans to spend the weekend with my daughter just got ruined, would you like to go out on Saturday?”

Lily’s face split in a wide grin. “I thought you’d never ask!” she effused, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him like her life depended on it.


	15. Chapter 15

It was nearly six months before Derek invited Matthew inside his apartment. It had been so long, in fact, that he was starting to wonder if he didn’t have some kind of horrific secret he was trying to keep from them like he had another family or collected clown paintings or something equally terrifying.

By the time he was actually invited in, he half expected it was an excuse to stab him (or possibly give him a time-share pitch). He was pleasantly surprised then when he found a tasteful, if sparsely decorated apartment that was far too large for any one person.

There was not, however, any pictures of him or Celeste or any family, really. No children’s artwork on the fridge. No toys or decorations or mess of any kind... If he hadn’t personally known him, he would never have guessed that Derek had a child in his life at all. (He supposed that was probably the way Derek liked it to look, when he brought his conquests home at night...and Matthew tried not to analyze the feelings that came with that supposition.)

“Make yourself at home,” Derek said with a sweeping gesture as Matthew precariously perched on the edge of the sofa as if afraid it might explode at any moment. And, without bothering to show him around, he disappeared into the kitchen and proceeded to pour them both drinks

“Not that I’m not glad for the invitation,” Matthew called after him, “But...why am I here?”

Derek returned to the living room then with a glass of whisky in both hands. “What makes you think I have some kind of ulterior motive?” he said as if offended, handing Matthew a drink before downing a generous swallow of his own.

Matthew gave him a pointed look. “Oh, I don’t know...literally everything about who you are as a person?”

Derek glared at him. “Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. “Have a little faith in me, would you?”

Matthew’s expression remained determinedly pointed. It was an expression alarmingly like the one that Emily used to give him when she was exasperated.

Derek heaved a sigh. “ _Fine_ ,” he relented, suddenly extremely interested in his drink so to avoid eye contact. “There’s a woman...”

“A woman?” Matthew repeated skeptically. “Since when do you need advice about women?”

Looking none too pleased about the situation, Derek explained, “She’s not the type of women I usually date...”

“You mean women whose breast size is larger than their IQ?” Matthew said.

Derek’s expression was unamused, but he couldn’t exactly argue against the assessment.

“What _is_ she like?” Matthew asked when Derek continued to say nothing.

“She’s a doctor – I met her at that conference in New York. She’s smart and classy and has way too much self-respect to fall for my usual lines...” He shook his head helplessly. “I’m not entirely sure why she agreed to go out with me in the first place...”

Matthew raised a brow. “And you want _my_ help?” he asked incredulously, considering the fact that they’d spent the last few months with the situation reversed as Matthew begged Derek for advice...

He shrugged. “Savannah isn’t a one night stand kind of woman and that’s obviously not what you’re about either, so...”

“ _Obviously_?” Matthew interrupted. “Why is it so _obvious_?”

Derek returned his pointed look.

Matthew sighed, relented, “Fine.”

...

“Have you ever tried to forget a girl and failed miserably because no matter how hard you try, she’s all you can think about?” Matthew asked, voice raised to be heard through the door of the walk-in closet where Derek was trying on his suit at Matthew’s behest.

Derek poked his head into the bedroom. “What are you talking about?”

“You know...maybe you try dating someone else because surely if you just try hard enough you’ll forget. But it seems like every girl you take a liking to looks like the person you’re trying to forget and all you can do is compare the two in your mind, all the while knowing that no one can ever quite measure up?”

There was a long pause and Matthew was starting to think that maybe Derek had stopped listening.

Then, a sigh. “Maybe,” he admitted. “I might know a thing or two about it...”

That seemed to surprise Matthew. “Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Derek asked, emerging into the room, adjusting his suit coat.

“Kinda, yeah...”

He just rolled his eyes. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know? I have feelings...”

“You’re right,” Matthew conceded. “I’m sorry. I guess I just figured that, based on what Mom’s told me, you’ve never really been the _feelings_ type.”

With an almost wistful look, Derek said, “Listen up, kid, ‘cause I’m only going to tell you this story once.” He settled heavily on the edge of his bed. “I was in love. Once. She was the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, to this day. She was smart, funny, _gorgeous_...and she wasn’t afraid to kick my ass when I needed it.”

Matthew raised a brow, remembering a similar conversation they’d had months ago. “Was this the one you called _Princess_?” he asked.

He nodded wistfully. “She said she hated that I called her that,” he reminisced. “But she used to get this cute little embarrassed smile every time, so I’m pretty sure she was lying.”

“What happened?” Matthew asked, almost breathlessly.

“She had bigger dreams than me, I guess. She went off to school and I started my bar...we were just too different.”

“But you loved her...”

He nodded slowly. “The truth, kid, is that love isn’t always enough. No matter what all those rom-coms you watch with your mom say. Sometimes you try and you try to make things work, but eventually you have to love someone enough to let them go because you want them to be happy. Happier than you could ever make them...”

Matthew had about a million more questions, but that appeared to be all Derek was going to say on the matter.


	16. Chapter 16

Matthew was no stranger to bad dates. On one particular occasion, in fact, his date had literally _ran_ away in the middle of getting coffee together. Which is why he felt qualified to categorize his date with Lily as not horrible, but nothing to write home about either...

They’d gotten dinner, which was nice, if conversationally uninspired. They’d seen a movie which was, perhaps, the most interesting part of the evening...if only because they didn’t have to speak to each other for the duration. Afterwards, they’d walked in the moonlight, which had given him plenty of time to think.

He’d eventually arrived at the decision that he needed to tell Lily the truth: namely, that he didn’t feel _it_. He owed it to her to be honest. He owed it to _himself_. (Granted, he planned on leaving out the part where he was madly in love with her twin sister and he’d only gone out with her in a foolhardy attempt to forget his soul-consuming crush...that much honesty was not, in fact, helpful.)

As he turned the car into the cul-de-sac where the Simmons home resided, Lily was chortling, a playful spark in her eyes as she fixed him with a teasing smirk. “Where have you been for the last decade?” she demanded. “How can you _not_ have seen the first two movies? They were like...the only thing anyone talked about for an entire year.”

He shrugged, not wanting to admit that he hadn’t seen them because he didn’t have that many friends to go with and he didn’t want to be the lonely loser who went to the movie theatre by himself...or worse, with his mom. “I understood the movie anyway,” he said instead. “Mostly.”

“You didn’t _appreciate_ it, though,” she insisted in a manufactured film professor affectation. “You _need_ to see the first two.”

He shrugged again because he didn’t really see the urgency.

“Oh my God, I just had the best idea!” Lily exclaimed suddenly. She turned to him with wide excited eyes. “We’ll have a movie marathon – we’ll watch them all in a row. Even the prequels. It’ll be _awesome_. We’ll make snacks and cuddle under a blanket – _so_ romantic...”

“Oh, Lil’... I-I don’t know,” he stammered, looking for an easy way to let her down, already seeing his chance to break things off quickly slipping away.

She refused to be swayed, though. “When are you free?” she demanded. “You can bring Celeste – I’m sure Mom and Dad won’t mind having her around to play with.”

Pulling into the driveway and putting the car in park, he turned to Lily, heaving a heavy sigh as he did. “Lily, look...” he said slowly.

She didn’t seem to hear his protestations, though. “What about tomorrow?” she said.

He raised a brow. “For what?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Our movie marathon, silly! You’re such a space case...”

“Lily, there’s something I need to tell you,” he tried again, “You’re a great girl – you’re beautiful and smart and funny and you’re great with Celeste...but it isn’t enough.” He shook his head, realizing he was rambling. “What I’m trying to say is...”

He was cut off, though, by the roar of a motorcycle engine pulling into the driveway beside the car. He half-stumbled out of the car just in time to see Chloe swing her leg over the bike in a surprisingly graceful dismount.

She pulled her helmet off, shaking her head to let her hair spill down over her shoulders, then unzipped her leather jacket (obviously a size or two too small, judging by the way her breasts were straining at the seams of the leather).

“Chloe?” Matthew stammered once he found his voice again.

She rounded on him looking none too pleased (whether from the interruption or the fact that it was _him_ that had interrupted, though, was unclear). “What?” she hissed, trying to subtly shoo him away.

He didn’t have the chance to form any further sentences before Lily emerged from the car, fixing her sister with an unimpressed look. “What are you doing?” she asked on a scoff. “And does Dad know you’re riding around on a motorcycle?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said pointedly, “But I’m _trying_ to say goodnight to my date... So, if you don’t mind...”

“I thought you were looking after Celeste tonight,” Matthew said. “You know, our daughter?” (If he’d raised his voice in an attempt to make sure her date knew they were inextricably linked for life, well, he didn’t think anyone could blame him for that.)

Chloe glowered at him. “It’s none of your business,” she growled. Then, as if they weren’t there, she turned to her date, pulled off his helmet so she could kiss him properly. “Goodnight, Jack,” she whispered when she was finally done sticking her tongue down his throat.

She waited until he’d driven off before turning back to her sister. “It’s late. You should come inside.”

“Wait!” Matthew called out before they could get to the door. Jogging the short distance between them, he reached out to grab Lily’s hand, pulling her into his chest so that he could kiss her. It wasn’t the best kiss he’d had in his life – clumsy and a little awkward – but judging by the way Chloe’s face flushed a furious red, it had the desired effect. “How about Thursday?” he suggested once he’d pulled away.

Apparently stunned by the unexpected PDA, Lily asked, “What’s happening Thursday?”

“Our movie date.”

A wide smile split her face. “Oh, Matty, you are _full_ of surprises!”

Without waiting for her sister, Chloe turned on her heel and stomped into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Lily giggled. “What’s _her_ problem?” she scoffed, apparently entirely oblivious to the nebulous relationship between her twin sister and Matthew. (Either that or she’d deliberately decided to ignore it.)

Matthew glanced briefly at the door through which Chloe had disappeared, suddenly fearing that he hadn’t made the best decision of his entire life... Then, he shrugged, commented, “Probably just jealous...”


	17. Chapter 17

“I can’t remember the last time we both had the night off,” Clyde remarked as he sipped his wine. “Maybe we should be drinking champagne – it’s practically a special occasion.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I just miss spending time with you,” he said, saccharine sweet.

She scoffed. “You mean _spending time_ with me,” she teased.

“Perhaps...but can you blame me? You’re gorgeous.”

“Are you really so hard up that you need to lay it on so thickly?” she teased.

He shrugged. “Perhaps...” As if to punctuate the sentiment, he let her hand wander up her thigh.

She gave him a pointed look. “Clyde,” she husked, halting his progress. “Not here...”

He just smirked at her. He looked very much like he wanted to suggest they skip dinner and go right to the _dessert_...but his double entendre was cut off by a boisterous exclamation of, “Well, look who it is!”

Emily blanched. “Derek?”

Smirking, he sauntered over to their table, his arm wrapped around the waist of an attractive – and vaguely familiar – woman.

“What a nice surprise...” Derek drawled. “Don’t the two of y ou look cozy.”

Clyde looked none too thrilled to be interrupted, but not nearly as displeased as Emily.

Apparently ignoring their discomfort, Derek introduced, “Savannah, this is Clyde Easter and I believe you know Emily.”

With a nod and a smile, she shook first Clyde’s hand, then Emily’s. “I didn’t realize the two of you knew each other...” she said, gesturing from Emily to Derek.

An awkward silence followed.

Either not noticing or not caring, Savannah suggested, “If you guys don’t mind, why don’t we push the tables together?”

“Oh, I don’t think...” Emily started.

“That’s really not...” Clyde said at the same time.

But the waiter was already complying.

Emily caught Derek’s eye and the two shared a silent conversation in which she begged him to keep his goddamn mouth shut and avoid revealing any of the sordid details of the drunken night they’d spent together lest he ruin everything as he had a penchant for doing, if twenty-five years ago was anything to go on...

...

“Well, _that_ was fun,” Clyde muttered darkly as he and Emily came through the front door. He tossed his suit jacket aside as he did.

She rolled her eyes. “Savannah is _dull_ ,” she agreed, slipping off her shoes and kicking them aside. “I mean, _God_ , she’s an ER doctor, she should have some interesting stories at least.”

Undoing his tie, Clyde corrected, “I meant because of the lovely sexual tension in the air – you could have cut it with a knife.”

Emily choked. “What?”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “You didn’t notice the way he was staring at you? Dogs stare at steak with less lust...”

“Oh. I, umm... I didn’t notice,” she said, removing her earrings as she padded down the hall to the bedroom.

“Really?” He didn’t seem to believe it. “He was so fucking obvious, you could see it across the room.”

Dropping her earrings on the dresser, she caught his gaze in the mirror. “Are you jealous?” she asked, almost teasing. She pulled her hair over her shoulder in a silent gesture for him to unzip her dress.

Obeying the unspoken command, he said firmly, “I’m _not_ jealous. Maybe I’d be jealous if I thought there were still feelings left between you.” He scoffed. “I can’t even imagine...” What it was he failed to imagine, though, remained unclear as he trailed off with a shake of his head.

Emily disappeared into the en-suite to wash off her make up – and, if she were better able to hide the flaming red blush creeping up her cheeks, well...she didn’t think she could be altogether blamed for that.

When she returned, she found Clyde sitting on the edge of the bed, staring intently at a picture of her and Matthew, both kissing one of Celeste's chubby baby cheeks. She paused for a moment to watch him before she interrupted his thoughtful fugue with a gentle voice asking, “Something wrong?”

Clyde looked up sharply, meeting her gaze with something she couldn’t quite name burning in his eyes. “Do you?” he demanded sharply, “Have feelings for him still?”

Her mouth hung open for a few moments of dumb silence. “What?” she sputtered. “Where is this coming from?”

“You haven’t seen him in twenty-five years – a man you were dating, maybe even loved – and suddenly he’s back in your life. Maybe that’s dredged up feelings you used to have... I don’t know what’s going on in your head, Em, you never let me in anymore.”

She arched a brow, obviously unimpressed. “So, you just assume that I’m throwing myself at him behind your back?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. We used to date, then we broke up, now look at us... Maybe you have a thing for ex-boyfriends...” If he was teasing her, she couldn’t be entirely certain.

Choosing to take his words at face value, she said, “I sincerely hope you don’t really mean that.”

“Come on, Darling,” he murmured, standing to rest his hands on her hips. “I was only joking.”

“Well, you’re not funny,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Then, without further comment, she pulled away and climbed under the covers.

He held up his hands in self-defence. “I’m sorry, I was merely curious. I think I have the right to know if the woman I’m dating still has feelings for her ex, considering that he certainly has feelings for you, given the way he was practically drooling over you.”

“My God, Clyde!” she snapped. “What’s gotten into you tonight? If you really think so little of me, maybe you should leave. Go home and clear your head. Then, maybe if you apologize, I’ll consider forgiving you.” She rolled over, turning her back to him.

He opened his mouth as if to comment on her sudden sour attitude, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he shook his head and pulled on his shirt again.


	18. Chapter 18

When Derek flung his door open, on his way to run some errands for the bar, he found Matthew standing there, looking lost. He raised a brow at his unexpected visitor. “Kid,” he said, trying to get Matthew’s attention. Then, louder, “Kid! How long have you been out here?”

He shrugged, apparently not having an answer. “Can we talk?”

Derek heaved a sigh because talking was, in fact, the last thing he wanted to do. Talking involved sharing feelings and being vulnerable and all those sorts of things that he hated doing, especially with his son. But he stood back to let him in the apartment anyway. “What’s up?” he asked, looking like a man headed to the gallows.

Matthew didn’t answer right away, slowly pacing the length of the living room, obviously deep in thought. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans in an attempt to keep from picking his nails in a habit he’d picked up from his mother.

“I’ve got places to be this week,” Derek attempted to rush him.

He sighed, stopped pacing, sighed again, then restarted his pacing. He stared down at the floor with every step so Derek couldn’t read on his face the same he was no doubt radiating. “I, umm... I think I really screwed up...” He met his father’s gaze then. “So, you know how I’ve sort of been _seeing_ Lily – Chloe’s twin sister?”

“What do you know,” Derek said with a wide grin, “You might actually take after me afterall!” He clapped him on the back. “You know, I once dated a set of twins...”

Matthew didn’t appear nearly as thrilled by the revelation of their similarities. “ _Anyway_... I just got a text from Lily,” he continued on, really not wanting to hear all the sordid details of his father’s sex life.

Derek raised a brow. “And? What did it say?”

Matthew cleared his throat. “Nothing.” A beat. “It was just a picture.”

“Of?” he prompted. His expression made it clear that he was thinking it was something naughty, but wasn’t sure why Matthew seemed so upset over the matter.

He let out a shaky breath, his face ghost white. “A, umm, a pregnancy test.”

For several long moments, Derek’s mouth hung open, words refusing to form. “I’m assuming it was...”

“Yeah,” Matthew cut him off before he could say the actual word. “What do I do now?”

Derek gave a hollow laugh. “You’re coming to _me_ for advice in the unplanned pregnancy department?” he asked skeptically. “You do remember growing up without me, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “I do, actually...” His stare was pointed. “The thing is, Lily was just my rebound. We used protection... This was never supposed to happen.”

“It never is...”

Another glare. “I’m still in love with Chloe. I want to marry her and have a family and grow old together. But I’m pretty sure that knocking up her sister will put a damper on that plan.”

Derek had to concede that that was probably true, though he didn’t say so aloud, knowing that Matthew’s grasp on his sanity was tenuous at best in that moment.

“What do I do!?” Matthew demanded. “Help me!”

All he had to offer, though, was a helpless shrug. “I think this is one of those things you’ve got to figure out on your own.” He patted his shoulder in silent apology.

“ _Dad_ , I really need your help,” he pressed, refusing to let Derek shirk his fatherly duty just then. “If I’m going to be a father again, I’m obviously going to do right by my kid. But it will mean letting go of all the hopes and dreams I had for my future with Chloe and I’m not sure I’m ready to do that.”

Derek sighed heavily. “Do you want to know what I think?”

And, even though he seemed to sense that he wasn’t going to like what he had to say and he didn’t really seem to want to hear it, he nodded anyway.

“Coming from someone who fucked it all up...if you created a kid with this girl, you owe it to her to be a co-parent. But you don’t owe her a relationship. You’re a great kid and you are a great father. And if Chloe doesn’t see that, it’s her loss. But you can’t create something out of nothing; if she doesn’t love you, you can’t make her.”

“But...”

“From what you’ve told me,” he continued, “It sounds like Lily is crazy about you. Have you really given her a fair shot or were you too busy thinking about someone you couldn’t have?”

Matthew sighed, but said nothing, unsure whether Derek was right or not. Mentally chewing it over for a few moments, he was silent. Then, something seemed to occur to him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hit me,” he said with a weary sigh, knowing that Matthew rarely asked a question he didn’t already know the answer to.

A beat.

“Are you in love with Mom?”

For a few moments, Derek sputtered, struggling to find a response. “What? No! I... No! Of course not!”

Matthew raised a brow, finding his denial over the top. “Because you told me you used to call the only girl you’ve ever loved ‘Princess’...which sounds an awful lot like _Prentiss_.”

“That reasoning is a little specious, kid,” Derek insisted.

He pressed on, though. “Are you sure? Because you don’t exactly have a lot of long-term relationships to your name.”

“Look, kid...your mom...” He seemed about to lie before reconsidering. “Sure. Back when we were dating, I thought maybe she was the one. I even thought about asking her to marry me one day. But she’s with Clyde now – she’s over me.”

His eyes widened. “So, you _do_ still love her?”

“What? No! I just meant...”

“Dad...”

He sighed. “Maybe a tiny part of me still has some residual affection. But believe me when I saw she’s made it _very_ clear those feelings are not reciprocated. So...” He shrugged.


End file.
